


settle us in

by eldee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Dom Derek, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, M/M, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldee/pseuds/eldee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' breath hitches because he can tell it's something else, something more, something he hasn't known how to put into words or ask for.  Hopefully Derek gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	settle us in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/gifts).



> Dearest Tomato, my dear friend! Here's a prezzie for you, as a congrats for all the wonderful RL things that have been going on for you recently. You are the awesomest. <3 (Also, it's kinda weird that this is the first thing I've written that you haven't pre-read in over three years, but you know, surprise!!)
> 
> Thanks to hermette for pre-reading this in the draft stage, since I was keeping it a secret from Tomato. :D

It begins.

It begins after a pack meeting in Derek's apartment, when it's only Derek and Stiles left. Stiles is feeling restless. He's frayed along the edges, coming apart and unsure how to pull himself back together. He lashes out, words biting and pushing and prodding, just to get a response. He can always count on Derek to be the one who doesn't put up with his bullshit.

It's not the same tonight, though, because Stiles needs it to be something _more_. There's a different charge behind it all. In his words, in his looks. Hell, Derek can probably tell through his scent.

The more Stiles picks and picks at Derek, the more settled Derek seems to become. Derek's irritation lessens, fades away into something… _controlled_. It's not like all the other times when Stiles starts to drive Derek mad, annoy him and push him to the brink. It's the exact opposite right now. 

It makes Stiles jealous. He wants that calm, he wants that cool. He wants to know how to get it. He needs Derek to show him, to guide him there.

When Stiles bites out something particularly vicious, Derek calmly tells Stiles to shut up. Stiles gets all up in his face, saying, "Why don't you make me, Derek? Huh?" and Derek's hand raises in the air. Stiles doesn't flinch away, doesn't expect any hurt, because he knows Derek wouldn't do that to him. Not any more, they're way past that now. 

Stiles' breath hitches because he can tell it's something else, something more, something he hasn't known how to put into words or ask for. Hopefully Derek gets it. 

With the way Stiles feels, ready to spin apart at a moment's notice, he _needs_ Derek to get it.

Derek's hand comes to rest firmly on Stiles' shoulder, and with the other, he shoves two fingers into Stiles' mouth. Stiles doesn't think to protest, he only closes his eyes and sucks, groaning as he does.

Derek… Derek knows. He gets it.

"Do you really want this?" Derek asks, and it almost throws Stiles right out of it. He doesn't want to be questioned, he doesn't want conversation right now. He's so sick of words and thoughts and feeling lost. He doesn't want to have to think; for once, he wants something where he doesn't have to make decisions, just has go with the flow and follow someone else. He can't afford that often. He can in this.

When Stiles opens his eyes, Derek's staring intently at him. His eyes are surprisingly soft with concern, but his cheeks are flushed and he swallows hard as Stiles continues to suck. But he doesn't fall for the distraction, and he slips his fingers out of Stiles' mouth. Derek's firm when he says, "You need to answer me."

It spikes something in Stiles' stomach, and now he can't imagine not answering. "Yes. Yes, Derek, I want…" He trails of for a second and takes a deep breath. He's not stupid, he knows what's being implied here. He knows what he was pushing for, hoping Derek would read into it, pick up all the signals Stiles has been trying to send for weeks, for months. He's not sure what's different today, but something is, and they're finally doing this. "I want it. I want you, for this. Tell me what to do, I swear I'll do it. Just… _please_."

There is no lie there, and Derek nods once. "The second you want it to stop, you say ‘stop'."

Stiles barely refrains from rolling his eyes. "Derek, I'm not going to--"

"Stiles," Derek says firmly. "If you at all feel uncomfortable, or you don't like it and you want it to stop, you say ‘stop', and I will. You have my word. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Stiles says impatiently.

"Repeat it back to me."

Derek looks so serious, looks like this is very important to him. So Stiles takes a second to himself, lets it all sink it. He trusts Derek, with this and so much more. Knowing that, that's the final tick on the list, the thing that makes Stiles commits to it fully. "The second I want it to stop, I'll say ‘stop'," Stiles repeats dutifully, and he means it. 

"You will follow my instructions. You will not argue. You do not speak unless I ask you to. The only exception is if you tell me to stop," Derek says firmly. "Do you understand?"

Stiles' mouth opens to answer, but then he promptly shuts it. Derek rewards him with a small smile, and it makes something in Stiles flare up with a need to see that again. Derek runs his thumb over Stiles' bottom lip. "That was a question, you can answer."

"Okay," Stiles says, surprised with how breathy he sounds. He's already half hard, and only from a couple brief touches and what feels like a promise of more. He goes over the rules in his head, visualizes a list and what it means, what he can and can't do. Derek waits patiently for him. "Okay, I understand. I swear, I do."

"Any further questions before we begin?"

Stiles shakes his head. "No. No, I'm good."

"We'll see about that," Derek says, and pushes his thumb past Stiles' lips. "You've been very mouthy tonight, Stiles. I know you did it on purpose, to get me worked up for this. So I'm going to put your pretty mouth to better use."

Stiles licks Derek's thumb, laves his tongue on the underside like it was a cock in his mouth. He doesn't say anything, but he can't stop himself from nodding. He wants that, he wants that so much.

"To your knees," Derek quietly commands. Stiles happily goes, sinks down to the floor in front of Derek. Stiles' hands reach for Derek's belt buckle, but they don't even make it far enough to touch. Derek's hand strikes out, grabbing Stiles tight around the wrist. Stiles freezes, realizing his mistake. Derek asks cooly, "Did I tell you to touch me?"

"No. No, I'm sorry--"

"We'll work on this," Derek says, letting go of Stiles' wrist. "Hands behind your back." Stiles immediately does that, lacing his fingers together behind him. "Not bad," Derek says. He runs his hand lightly over Stiles' head, and Stiles finds he leans into the touch. Craves it. "But try this: grab your elbows." 

Derek helps maneuver Stiles' arms until he's gripping each elbow with the opposite hand. His arms are locked behind his back now, and Stiles knows he's not supposed to touch -- not Derek, not himself. Not until he's told.

"Use your mouth only," Derek says, and he undoes his own jeans, pulling out his half-hard, uncut cock. It's right at Stiles' eye level, and he watches as Derek jerks himself a few times, bringing himself fully erect. Stiles licks his lips, mouth watering. The smell on the air is thick, musky, and Stiles leans forward, just a tiny bit. Not enough to touch, but he closes his eyes and inhales. It's makes him light-headed, and he has to try not to sway.

Derek catches him under the chin, index finger and thumb pressing hard on either side of Stiles' jaw, holding him in place. Derek traces Stiles' lips with the head of his cock that's peeking out of the foreskin, but he doesn't push inside quite yet. He hasn't asked Stiles to open his mouth, so he doesn't. Derek hums approvingly, deep in his throat, and says, "Good." Stiles has to bite back the smile that threatens to break out at the word. 

"I want you to stay still," Derek adds. His hand leaves Stiles' jaw, goes up to the top of his head. His fingers twine into Stiles' hair, though he doesn't pull or tug. Just holds. "Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes. Yes, I can do that." 

"Tell me when you're ready."

Stiles spreads his knees a little wider, balances himself better. He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. He wills himself to relax, dropping his tense shoulders down from where they've crept up to his ears. He focuses himself, and then he opens his eyes and looks up.

"I'm ready, Derek. I'm so ready."

"Good," Derek says with a little smile. "Open your mouth." 

Stiles does, covering his teeth with his lips. Derek feeds his cock in, shallow at first until Stiles' jaw adjusts, then pushes back farther, testing how much Stiles can take. 

Stiles can take a lot.

Derek pulls back until only the head of his cock is left in Stiles' mouth. "Suck." Stiles does, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks enthusiastically, trying to show Derek that he's good at this, that he's listening.

They continue like that, Derek guiding his cock in and out, telling Stiles what to do with it. Stiles tries, he tries so hard, to listen and do what Derek wants. He's encouraged by Derek's soft praise, "Yes, like that," and, "You're doing so good, Stiles." It's what Stiles wants, what he needs, and he focuses on doing well so that he gets more of it.

Derek pulls his hard cock out of Stiles' mouth, and it's flushed so red, so slippery with Stiles' spit and the precome leaking from it. "You're hard, aren't you?" Derek says, holding his own dick at the base.

"Yes," Stiles says, breath labored and panting. He's so hard in his jeans, his dick pressing uncomfortably against the zipper. He hadn't been thinking much about it, the feeling of being turned on a haze in the back of his mind while paying more attention to Derek than himself. Now that he's taking a moment, it hits him like a ton of bricks. He's so close. "I am, Derek, I need to come. Can I? Please?"

"Not yet," Derek says. Stiles moans, part desperate and part pleased. Derek, that fucker, probably pointed it out just to give Stiles something else to think about, to work for. "I'm going to get off first. After I do, you can jerk yourself off. Understand?"

"Yes, yes," Stiles says. He digs his fingers into the material of the shirt around his elbows, clinging hard so he doesn't let go. All he wants is to touch himself now, but he can't. Not yet. Derek is first. Stiles rolls his shoulders, and breathes in deep, trying to settle again.

He gasps when Derek suddenly tugs on his hair, unexpected sharpness shooting over his skull, but it sends thrills through the rest of his body. His toes curl up in his shoes. Derek lifts Stiles' head up higher. He groans when Derek taps Stiles' cheek with his cock. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now," Derek says, "so stay still."

Derek keeps to his word, holding Stiles' head in place while he sets a fast pace. Stiles does his best to stay still, to just take Derek's cock as it thrusts into his mouth over and over, his balls hitting against Stiles' chin. Derek's been a pinnacle of control, but when he starts to let out little breathy moans, Stiles knows he's close too. It's the most wonderful sound Stiles has ever heard from Derek, and so reassuring that he's getting this right, that Derek's enjoying it too. There's only another slight tug on his hair as a warning, and a grunt as Derek stills then comes into Stiles' mouth.

Stiles tries to swallow it, but he's short of breath and it's difficult. His chest feels tight from lack of air and more feelings than he knows what to do with. Derek seems to understand, though, and pulls his cock out of Stiles' mouth, giving a few more tugs while come lands on Stiles' face.

"Yeah," Derek says, breathless, "god, your mouth is perfect for this." His thumb smears come across Stiles' cheek. "You're so good, Stiles, so good."

Stiles keens, hips tilting in the air, looking for phantom friction to get off on. "Please, can I, I need--"

"Yes," Derek says. He massages his fingertips against the top Stiles' head. "You can come now. Touch yourself. I want to see."

Stiles groans again, letting go of his elbows. It's record fast time for him to get his jeans open and a hand into his boxers. He's panting hard, letting go of that focus he'd been keeping, and it doesn't take long before he lets out a low whine and comes harder then he has in a long time.

"Perfect," Derek says again. Derek presses against the back of his head, and Stiles goes with it, resting against Derek's thigh.

 

It continues.

It continues because Stiles can't forget. He can't forget what it's like kneeling at Derek's feet and being told what to do. He can't forget how it tastes when Derek comes in his mouth, or how it feels when he gets to come because he's been good and Derek tells him to.

He can't forget those unexpected moments right after it's all over, when Derek sinks to his knees beside Stiles too. His large hands are surprisingly gentle as they use a wet cloth to clean Stiles. Derek seems so intent on it, focused on taking care of him, and Stiles is pliant and satisfied so he lets Derek do it. Maybe under other circumstances, it would be weird, but right now it feels so natural. Stiles likes it, and Derek's soft smile as Stiles leans into his touch is a thing of beauty.

There's the tickling brush of Derek's stubble as he kisses Stiles' cheek and then asks, almost serenely, how Stiles is doing. They sit on the floor of Derek's kitchen and talk quietly about what happened and how Stiles is feeling. Stiles is good, so very good. There's a dull ache in his shoulders from holding his arms back, but it doesn't _hurt_. It's a reminder of what he did for Derek, and it helps settle the wild feeling he had running through him earlier. For the first time in a long time, he feels tethered together and peaceful.

Derek even lets Stiles lean forward, bury his face into the crook of Derek's neck. Derek's hand presses into the small of Stiles' back, fingers fanning out, as Stiles breathes in deep the smell of sweat and sex. Derek murmurs into Stiles' hair that he liked it too, that he feels good too. It makes Stiles melt into him even more.

They sit like that until the moment is exhausted, but even then it doesn't feel awkward as Derek helps Stiles to his feet. Stiles shucks out of his come-stained jeans and puts on a pair of Derek's sweatpants. Derek ties the drawstring tight for him so they don't slip off his narrower hips. Stiles leaves Derek's apartment with a secret smile and goes back out into the world.

That night, Stiles sleeps better than he has in months.

Derek's praises for Stiles doing well, doing right, ring in his ears for days, fuels him and keeps him going.

They don't call it a one-off, but Stiles doesn't feel any pressure or expectation of it happening again. He knows the ball is in his court, that they can leave it as is and it won't affect their friendship, or that Stiles can ask for more and it still won't affect their friendship. Though Stiles suspects if it goes on, there will be a lot more talking about it first. Derek might not always be a big communicator, but judging on how he treated their first time together, Stiles knows he will be in this. There was something about it that showed experience, or at least knowledge and awareness, and that sets the bar for Stiles to be nothing less.

Stiles prepares. He reads and researches. He thinks about what he might want, what he would be willing to do, what it would all mean to him and why. He tries to figure out what Derek thinks about it all, but he finally gives that up until he has a chance to actually talk to Derek. He trusts Derek will tell him.

A couple weeks later, Stiles shows up at Derek's apartment. Derek invites him in, and he's barely got the door closed when Stiles turns to him.

"I want to scene with you again," Stiles says.

Derek smiles. And they talk. A lot.

Then they play.

It turns out neither of them wants it to end.


End file.
